


Groundhog

by stephanericher



Category: ROBOT x LASERBEAM (Manga)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: Gen’s expectations are always high, but he knows what he wants and what he deserves.





	Groundhog

**Author's Note:**

> one day i will be more confident about writing these characters. and golf. i think.

Rion exhales, digging his hands deeper into the pockets of his raincoat as if that’s going to have any effect on the weather. It’s not that bad to practice in the rain, even for the pure sake of variability and preparation for shitty weather on the day of a match. On a day like today that’s supposed to be his date with Gen, though, it seems like a little bit more than rotten luck. Like the golf gods are conspiring against them or something.

“Stop acting like a groundhog,” says Gen.

“Why a groundhog? Are they supposed to hate rain?”

“They go back into their burrow after looking for their shadows.”

Rion snorts, bumping his shoulder against Gen’s in a way he could pretend to play off as an accident if he really wanted to.

Gen pushes his glasses up. “You’re an athlete. Playing clumsy isn’t cute.”

“But you know I meant to do that,” says Rion. “Anyway.”

The rain’s been steadily coming down since the middle of the previous night, enough to have made the ground soggy and overfilled. There are puddles out on the course, ripples on top of ripples even on the smaller one, and Rion’s almost surprised there aren’t any ducks out there trying to swim around. It’s not ideal, but they’ve played in worse than this before (and at least these scores don’t count today, because Rion’s is probably going to be notably worse). And, well, they haven’t seen anyone else out there yet.

It’s not just raining, though; it’s cold for the middle of August and Rion finds himself kind of wishing for real gloves. He’s always holding either the club or the umbrella, max one hand in his pocket, and it’s not even cold-for-Tokyo cold, but it’s gross and distracting.

“You’re not paying close enough attention,” says Gen, when they get to the third hole and he’s three strokes ahead. “Don’t get thrown off.”

Rion sighs. “It’s gross, though.”

“Remember the first practice match?”

“I’ve gotten better since then.”

“But you still lose focus more easily in the rain,” says Gen.

Rion sighs. “I know, I know. Is this a date or a golf lesson?”

“It’s a date,” says Gen. “But since we’re here, and since it’s raining, it’s an opportunity.”

Well, yeah. It’s not like Rion’s not taking this seriously and it's not like he likes falling behind, especially not against Gen. He takes the umbrella back, holding it over Gen as he picks out a club, watching the way he pushes up his glasses and furrows his brow at the selection. The way Gen takes everything seriously, weighing its actual implications, is one of the things Rion likes about him, and it goes hand in hand with the pride and weight he puts in golf, his own game and the sport itself (something Rion has, too, but expresses differently).  


Gen sets up his stance, looks toward the flag, fairly visible even at this distance in the rain, and takes the shot. The ball flies in a near-perfect arc and comes to a stop where it would probably roll into the hole on dry grass. Gen sighs and, ducking under the umbrella, turns back to Rion.

“I’m sorry,” says Rion. “’m not going to let the weather get the better of me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” says Gen. “Just play better.”

It doesn’t come off as overly harsh; Gen’s expectations are always high, but he knows what he wants and what he deserves, the kind of thing that makes Rion think privately that, intra-team politics aside, Gen would be the best choice to be the next captain (not that Rion can get rid of his own biases here, but choosing a captain’s all about bias in the first place). But, next captain or not, Rion’s not going to give up; he’s not going to lose here.

It’s going to be difficult to make the serpent bite work this early in the rain, but it’s a roughly equivalent in the extra effort as it is making a regular shot (so, not impossible if he pays closer attention). He can feel the way Gen’s eyes are on him, not uncomfortably, enough to make him stay focused on the shot, the curve, the spin. Rion adjusts his grip on the club, sets up, exhales, and swings the club. It hits the ball with a satisfying smack, and he can tell right away that it’s got a good amount of backspin. He watches it fly, swing around back, and land right at the base of the flag. It’s either gone in or close to it, and as they trek up the hill it becomes clear.

“Looks like I won the hole, huh?” says Rion.

“You’re still behind,” says Gen.

“Fifteen and change to go,” says Rion. “I can make it up.”

“Don’t think I’ll cede my advantage,” says Gen.

His shot lands cleanly in the hole; Rion’s only one stroke closer and one ahead for this hole. It’s still a victory, and he’s going to savor it here, because direct faceoffs between the two of them are rare, and, well, Gen had reiterated that this is a date. Rion puts his hand on Gen’s shoulder.

“Consoling me?”

“Nope. I won this one, so give me a kiss.”

“It seems like a prize for losing, too,” says Gen, twisting his lips.

He leans in anyway, his nose brushing against Rion’s, water running down it from where it sticks out under the hood of his raincoat. It’s cold, like his fingertips grazing the bottom of Rion’s jaw, but his mouth is warm. Rion’s managed to tune out the sound of the rain hitting the grass around them and the umbrella above, but with his eyes closed he begins to hear it again even before it starts to pick up. When he pulls back, the visibility’s cutting out at distances beyond a few meters. He takes his hand down from Gen’s shoulder and clasps Gen’s free hand in it; Gen looks at him.

“Let's wait for it to die down a bit,” says Rion.

“Calling it in?”

“Nah. I still have to beat you,” says Rion. “I won’t give up that easily.”

“I know,” says Gen.

The smile on his face is pretty smug; he looks like he’s so sure of keeping the lead the whole way through, and the fire in Rion to take the lead for himself is flaring up like a charcoal grill that’s just been set alight. But there’s going to be time to do that, time to burn away slowly, time before that to keep the fire going while they wait under the umbrella.

It’s only a minute or so before the rain levels off again, so Rion steals an extra kiss before they start heading for the next hole. Gen doesn’t even pretend to be displeased, though.


End file.
